


Seattle

by StAnni



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Beginnings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: The wood is cold under Eames’ feet and the air is bitingly chilly.  He can see that Arthur is wearing a hoodie and jeans – which in itself is astonishing – and not only that, Eames would be freezing – but then Arthur has some sort of superhuman resistance to natural elements that Eames wouldn’t be able to begin to explain.





	Seattle

Arthur is outside, on the pier, sitting on the edge, perched against the railing, smoking. 

The wood is cold under Eames’ feet and the air is bitingly chilly. He can see that Arthur is wearing a hoodie and jeans – which in itself is astonishing – and not only that, Eames would be freezing – but then Arthur has some sort of superhuman resistance to natural elements that Eames wouldn’t be able to begin to explain.

As he walks down the pier Arthur glances in his direction and upon seeing him, lifts his hand in a short hello. Eames hunches against the wind and walks all the way down, stopping a few feet from Arthur.

“Been looking for you.” Eames says and Arthur nods, taking another drag of his cigarette as he pushes himself up the railing. “Where’d you go last night?” Eames asks, but not wanting to sound as if he is prying but Arthur had left the bar at around eleven and didn’t return to either his or Eames’ hotel room until minutes before four AM – when Eames did not hear the familiar click of his own door, but Eames’ room across from Arthur’s. And then, at six, had left again – presumably to come to the pier.

“Didn’t really like the bar” Arthur offers by way of explanation and crushes his cigarette against the wood of railing before dropping it in the smoker’s tray. “Why? Did something happen or something?” He asks, absently and Eames shrugs “No.” 

This thing that they have been doing, it’s only been going on for the last three jobs – which would make the length of it, whatever it is, just over six months. Eames is not one to do casual but Arthur there is no choice, so he is not hurt or offended – or not terribly so – when Arthur doesn’t move to touch him, at all, when he indicates for them to go back up to the docks.

It is a bit of a walk to where the team is situated in a hanger and Eames can’t help but look at Arthur, in jeans, again. Arthur, off his look, gives him a squint, his dimples showing “What?” Eames shakes his head and laughs, because – truly – it’s astonishing “Are you aware that you are in casual clothes, Arthur?”  
Arthur chuckles “It’s Sunday, Eames.” as if it is any sort of clarification.

-

It’s a week long job which would mean, usually, that Arthur would occupy Eames’ room for, at the very least, four out of the seven nights and they may, at some point, venture out for a dinner or two. It’s not as if Eames has his heart set on it, but Arthur is the only reason he took the mind-numbingly boring job to begin with.

This week, however, apart from the very first night, and then eventually the fourth, Arthur doesn’t come to his room and when Eames knocks on Arthur’s door only silence answers him.

On that fourth night Eames opens the door to Arthur, quite drunk, with a cigarette pressed between his lips which Eames takes out of his mouth as he saunters into the room, already taking off his shirt.

“Seattle’s the fucking best, right?” Arthur smiles at Eames and Eames shrugs – “I’ve not really been around.” None of them have, actually, except for Arthur who has been blinking in and out of the job as he pleases and to the growing irritation of the main extractor.

Arthur leaning on his knees against Eames’ bed as he unbuckles his belt, is apparently encouraged by Eames’ remark. “You should get out, Eames. It’s a great place. I grew up here.”

It is the first, very first, personal information that Arthur has ever, ever offered Eames. Eames doesn’t even know Arthur’s real last name, his age, how he came to know Cobb. But now Eames knows that Arthur grew up in Seattle.

Careful not to bring Arthur to the knowledge that he inadvertently gave a micro-inch on his privacy in his inebriated state, Eames moves against Arthur’s naked back, running his hands up Arthur’s sides and down the middle to where his slacks are being pulled down “ How did you get this shattered, Arthur? You left the hanger two hours ago.” 

Arthur arches inwards against his touch and his shoulders push back against Eames. He groans and his hair smells like coconut and pine against Eames’ cheek. “I’m just that good at it.” 

Eames bites against Arthur’s neck and whispers to him “Sure you’re not too drunk for this, love?”  
Arthur is not really that drunk, Eames has seen him worse, but Eames likes the way that Arthur keens against him and grabs back at his head “You’ve started something you can’t stop, James.”  
Arthur also, only ever calls him by his first name when he is drunk.

Arthur rides him against the headboard of the cheap motel bed and moans with abandon when Eames comes inside of him, gripping his hips to deepen the thrusts and spills, without a care, in a streak on Eames’ chest.

Afterwards, sobering up, Arthur sighs and leans back, looking out of the window. “Man, I love this place” he says and Eames nods, rolling his head on Arthur’s shoulder “So you grew up here?” At the question Arthur (unsurprisingly) stiffens a bit and glances at Eames, his cheek so close that Eames’ lashes are practically brushing his skin, before he looks away again. “Umong other places.” he concedes and Eames smiles, smelling the coconut and pine on Arthur’s neck.


End file.
